I Always Carry An Umbrella
by Spontaneous Me
Summary: Jen is an 18-year-old fresh out of foster care. She earns what money she can in an antique shop in Manhattan, treats herself to a Java-Chip frappuccino once a month, and is your pretty average teenager. But she must have done something pretty abnormal to get herself arrested by S.H.I.E.L.D, don'tcha think? Discontinued for some much-needed TLC.
1. Chapter 1

Jen loved antique shops. Maybe it was because she was a bit old-fashioned herself. She loved to walk through isles and isles of old typewriters, phonographs, and record players, just imagining how they worked. It gave her a special thrill when something so ancient ran like it was made yesterday. Because of her love for old things, she didn't quite understand the modern world. Why would people Google how to do something when there was a library just down the street? Cell phones, she could understand, but only a little. Sure it was convenient to have communication wherever you went, but why did they have to be filled with games or the most ridiculous applications? The only thing she absolutely loved was the Ipod. It was so nice to know that when you were feeling low you could just plug in your earbuds and listen to your favorite music. She still wished she had a record player, though. Nothing could beat the rich sound of those black discs. Her favorite bygone item was her grandfather's aviator jacket that he wore during his time in "The Big One". She had pleasant memories of sitting on his lap, bundled up in the old leather, listening to his stories of his dogfights, D-Day, and of Captain America. She still wore it, even when Gram-pap was gone, as a sort of security blanket. And it kept her warmer than any of those fancy-to-do coats during the harsh New York winters.

She wore it today as she entered Grandma's Closet—her favorite antique shop.

A bell tinkled as she closed the door, a pleasant change from the loudness of New York City.

"Good morning, Jennifer." Grandma Madge set down To Kill a Mockingbird and gestured to an apron hanging on the wall behind her. "We have some new inventory in the back. A couple typewriters, lots of china and a few more miscellaneous boxes. I don't dare take care of it—I'll break something even before I pick it up." she said. "Me with my old fingers."

Jen grinned. She liked it how Madge took on old age in stride. Some people would have thought growing old was the worst thing that had happened to them. Not Madge. She joked about old people—and herself—just like everybody else. It wasn't that she didn't like being old, she just had fun about it. She was also the only person who could get away with using Jen's full name.

Jen put on the apron, grabbed the polish and a couple of rags from the broom closet.

The storage room was nondescript. Peeling gray paint covered the brick walls and a large steel door hung on the far end of the room, opening to the back alley. A row of light bulbs was strung across the room by a large network of wires that crisscrossed throughout the rafters. The flickering glow of the light bulbs combined with small clouds of dust resulted in a ghostly atmosphere.

The new shipment lay in front of the door, just barely contained in half-rotten cardboard boxes and duct tape. Jen curled a lip as she peeled off the first layer of tape and sighed in disgust at the mangled heap of metal.

_I wonder how much she payed for this piece of junk._ She wondered. Madge was generous. Maybe a little too generous for her own good. Usually people wouldn't part with family heirlooms, such as the ones you found in her shop, unless they needed the money. Madge seemed to realize this and gave as much as she deemed appropriate. It didn't matter if the typewriter was beyond repair—she would pay at least twenty bucks for it just for the feeling that she had helped somebody out. It was a good trait, Jen guessed, but that, combined with Jen's paycheck every week, left Madge with barely enough to take care of herself.

Jen sighed. Maybe she could take the typewriter to Bill when she had the money. If she had the money.

With an ever-increasing feeling of dread she opened the next box. Nestled in the wads of wet newspaper was a large navy-blue vase. It had a small crack down the side but that could easily be painted over. Jen had hopes for this one. More searching in the box revealed a hand-painted cup and saucer, Several glass paperweights, and a silver cream and sugar dish set. Jen polished these and deposited them in a more sturdy cardboard box, so that Madge could label and price them. Two more boxes carried an eighteenth century tea set. A couple plates and cups were cracked and one saucer was completely broken but Jen knew that Madge had connections and that she could make them as good as new. Another typewriter, this one intact, was the contents of a wooden crate and Jen placed that beside the paperweights. That left two more boxes. She slit the duct tape wrapping around the rotten cardboard and tore it (literally) open. From the tear in the box a couple magazines slid out and onto her lap. Jen brought them to the light and her eyes widened as she realized that they weren't magazines, but old comics. Captain America comics to be exact. Excited she dove into the rest of the box. Some were stained, some had ripped covers, some had entire pages missing, but she didn't care. These were the comics that her father had read to her. Not the exact same issues, but she felt overjoyed to find something she had missed for so long. Immediately she knew she should buy them. Madge could take the cost out of her paycheck for this week, and they weren't worth very much because of all the damage...

The bell ringing yanked her back to the storage room. Hastily she gathered up the comics, dumped them into another box and shoved it underneath a shelf. She grabbed the paperweights and typewriter and stumbled into the shop.

* * *

**So, here's the first chapter. Not much has changed this time around, and I have a pretty good idea where I want this to go. Just bear with me while I struggle to keep this alive! :)**

**-SM**


	2. Chapter 2

". . .Yes, but I always carry an umbrella."

Madge was conversing with two costumers, a man and a woman, when Jen tripped over the broom. She crashed to the floor with a yelp and glass flew everywhere. Instantly Madge was at her side, helping her off the floor, dusting her off, and examining the scrapes on her forearms that resulted from falling on top of the wooden crate. Jen felt her face flush with embarrassment, but inwardly she liked it when Madge fussed over her. The last time someone had cared for her that much was almost ten years ago.

After making sure Jen was no worse for wear Madge picked up the typewriter and proceeded to store it on a shelf near the windows. Jen knelt behind the counter and started picking up the scattered fragments of china. That lovely vase was nothing but shards of blue now. She had forgotten about the costumers standing on the other side of the counter, so when she bumped into one while scrambling on the floor, she almost jumped out of her wits.

The twenty-something woman was dressed in jeans, a forest green top, and a sporty leather jacket. Her strikingly red hair framed an elegant face which smiled at Jen's startled reaction.

"Let me help you with that." she said, kneeling down beside her.

It took Jen a moment to recover from her shock. "Um, thanks." Jen mumbled.

The lady chuckled. "My name is Natasha. Not used to that, are you?"

"Not really. Most of the people that come in here are too old to bend down. I'm Jen, by the way."

"I guess that's why you help out Madge, right?"

"Yup, though sometimes she doesn't like to admit it."

Natasha winced in pain as a particularly sharp piece bit into her hand, drawing blood.

Jen leaped to her feet. "Here, I'll get a band-aid for you."

"It's not that bad." Natasha protested.

"You're bleeding. In my book, that requires a band-aid."

Natasha smiled.

When Jen returned with her box of band-aids, the large pieces of glass were gone. All that needed doing was sweeping the floor. Natasha bandaged her hand and smirked at the Perry the Platypus band-aid.

Jen grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't have anything else."

"It's all right, my niece loves Agent P."

"Who wouldn't? He_ is_ a semi-aquatic, egg-laying mammal of action. . ."

Natasha couldn't help but laugh.

Madge and the other costumer chose this moment to re-appear.

"Clint, where've you been?" asked Natasha.

Clint opened his mouth to speak, but Madge beat him to it. "Oh, Clint is such a gentleman. He was helping me put that heavy typewriter on the high shelf next to the window." she said.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow, and Jen got the impression that Clint didn't do the 'gentleman' thing very often. Clint, for his part, just grinned.

"Jennifer, wasn't there another box of china in the storage room?" Madge asked.

"There's an old tea set that needs some repairing, but that's about it."

"Oh, good. I'll need that, please."

"Sure." Jen made her way to the storage room, but first making sure that the offending broom was out of her way. She heard Natasha call after her, "It's been nice meeting you, Jen."

She turned and smiled. "It was nice meeting you too." she replied.

Ten seconds later, when Jen staggered back into shop the two costumers were gone. Jen looked around, confused. "Where'd they go?"

Madge looked up from To Kill a Mockingbird. "Where'd who go?"  
"Natasha and Clint. Weren't they talking to you about something?"

"Oh, they were just looking for directions. They left already."

Jen looked at Madge suspiciously. She would have heard the bell when they exited. Oh, well. She shrugged her shoulders and carefully stacked the boxes on the counter. "Here's the tea set, Madge." she said.

"What tea set?"

Okay,_ that_ was weird. Madge never, _ever_, forgot about something. Even in her old age her memory was as sharp as everyone else's. Jen shifted uncomfortably. "Um, the one you told me to get."

"I never told you to get anything. Go put it back in the storage room and then sweep the floor in here. I can feel the dirt through my shoes."

Slowly Jen gathered the boxes back in her arms. But before she turned to leave, "Madge, are you okay?" she asked.

Madge slammed her book onto the counter and glared at Jen. "No, I am not _okay,"_ she sighed, exasperated. "I am trying to read one of the most climactic moments in my favorite book and some teenager keeps asking me stupid questions about tea sets and random people!"

Jen struggled to keep a chuckle from breaking through her lips. Even when she was annoyed, Madge was fun to be around. She shrugged in defeat, still smiling, and walked back to the storage room.

For the next couple of hours Jen swept the floor, dusted the shelves, sorted receipts, and helped load a bunch of records into the back of a taxi. By the time it was time to close she was utterly exhausted.

"I'll lock up tonight." Madge insisted.

Jen didn't care. She shrugged on her jacket, inhaling the comforting smell of old leather, and stepped onto the sidewalk. As soon as she closed the door she almost got swept off her feet from the swarm of bodies that hurried to and fro.

Not for the first time Jen wished the shop closed either earlier or later than rush hour. It was a daunting prospect, having to navigate through the packed crowds, even for a New Yorker like herself.

Steeling her nerves, she took a deep breath and stepped into the throng.

Lucky for her, Starbucks was just across the street. Maybe she should stop and order a decaf Java Chip for the walk home. That would be nice. She smiled at the thought of the cool coffee drink. Before long she was swept to the subway station on 49th street, careful not to get whipped cream up her nose.

She was standing on the platform when she remembered the Captain America comics.

"Snap!" she cursed and tore back up to the street. Hopefully Madge was still at the shop. As fast as she could she fought her way through the constant flow of people. Somewhere along the way Jen had discarded her empty Starbucks cup and earned a bruise from flying headlong into a tree. Yuck.

Finally she reached Grandma's Closet. Thank goodness the lights were still on. Jen bounded up to the door. She was just grasping the door handle when a man came hurling out of the window. . .

* * *

**A/N: OMGoodness! 5 reviews already? You guys are awesome! Thank you all for reading my story! :D Sorry for the plot slowness. It'll get better, I promise!**

**-SM**


	3. Chapter 3

Jen froze as the black-clad body crashed through the window. She stumbled away from the half-open door as she was showered with shattered glass. She felt several pieces cut into her skin and instinctively raised her arms to shield her head. Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, bullets tore through the air, demolishing the wood above her head.

A scream added to the confusion.

Jen scrambled to get out of the way but she wasn't fast enough. Another thief crashed through the door and tripped over Jen's sprawled figure. Jen cried out as he landed on top of her with a _thump_. A gun skidded across her vision, stopping right in front of her nose. She stared at it in horror.

The man in black leaped to his feet and grabbed for the gun. His black ski mask was hanging off his face and he pulled it down quickly, but not before Jen recognized him.

"Rick!?" she cried.

The man hesitated and Jen's eyes widened. It _was _him.

"Stay out of this." Rick's voice was raspy, like he was trying to avoid recognition. Jen almost snorted. Too late for that. Slowly she propped herself onto her elbows. She glanced at his gun and forced herself to stay calm.

"Why—why are you doing this?" she asked.

Rick stared at her, as if deciding whether or not he should be talking to his once-childhood friend. "You don't need to know."

"Yes, I do. I'm you're friend, now tell me what's going on."

He didn't answer.

"Rick, let me help you. Whatever you're doing, just stop-" Jen pleaded.

"I said, stay out of this!" Rick yelled. He fired a shot past her ear. Jen screamed and curled herself into a ball. She actually heard the whistle as the bullet whizzed by.

"Stop right there!"

Rick whirled at the sound of another voice. A woman was picking her way through the rubble in the antique shop. She held a strange-looking pistol in her hand. Rick cursed and made a break for it. The woman shouted again. Rick was halfway across the street when, out of nowhere, a dozen agents surrounded him.

Jen gasped as she scrambled to her feet. "Wait!" she cried. She had to stop this.

The agents leveled their guns. Rick reached in his back pocket and brought out a grenade. He raised it, ready to throw. Jen couldn't believe what was happening. Rick was her friend. . . She took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs, "RICK, STOP!"

Everyone froze in place and looked at her. Everyone that is, except Rick. With a quick glance at Jen, he took the opportunity and threw the grenade on the ground. White gas billowed from the bomb, obscuring Jen's view of the crowd.

She watched in horror as Rick ran away un-harmed down the street.

The gas blew away in the wind, but some blew her way and she caught a wiff. Instantly she felt her muscles grow weak and she leaned against the wall for support. Paralysis gas.

People started pouring out of the shop. Most hurried over to the circle of agents who lay paralyzed on the ground. Some were focused on the task of keeping the crowd at bay.

Jen heard voices behind her, and the tinkling of glass being stepped on. Suddenly a rough hand shoved her into the wall and yanked her hands behind her back.

Jen gasped at the pain as the handcuffs were tightened. "What's going on?" she asked.

"You are under arrest for interfering with a S.H.I.E.L.D assignment. You have the right to remain silent-"

"What?! I'm under arrest?!" Jen twisted around to meet the face of the woman whom she had seen earlier. What on earth was S.H.I.E.L.D?

"What is your name?" the woman asked.

"Why am I being arrested?"

"Your name?"

Jen huffed in frustration. "Jen Haskell."

"Jen, short for Jennifer?"

"I don't see why you need to know."

The woman smirked. "Well, _Jen_ Haskell, You are under arrest for the interference of a S.H.I.E.L.D mission. Thanks to you, our prime suspect has escaped."

"Excuse me?" Jen stood there, shocked.

"You're excused." said the agent. At the sound of a helicopter she looked up. "Ah, our ride's here."

Jen followed her gaze and gasped. For a moment every thought was banished from her mind. Instead of a helicopter, it was a flying city. Four giant propellers kept it aloft, and from the water stains on the bottom, Jen guessed it was made to float, too. The agent glanced at Jen's face and smiled.

"That's our Helicarrier."

Jen gaped at the monstrous machine. "I—It's huge!"

"Yes, it is rather big, isn't it?"

The Helicarrier hovered over New York while a squadron of jets flew from the top. One by one they landed, like a helicopter, in the street and the agents filed on. Jen's agent nudge her back, gesturing for her to move.

"Let's go."

Jen took a step in the direction of the jet, but stopped as a sudden thought struck her. She whirled. "What about Madge?" she asked franticly.

Her agent winced. "She was shot in the head. I'm sorry. I don't exactly how it happened," her face grew disapproving, "but I'm sure your friend had something to do with it."

Jen didn't hear anything after the first sentence. Madge, dead? Because of Rick? Somehow she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Rick would murder someone like that. _Well, he did shoot at you._ One piece of her mind said. _But it was a warning shot. _Jen insisted. _I _know_ Rick. He's a better shot than that. If he had wanted to kill I would be lying on the ground with a bullet in my head. _

So caught up in her thoughts as she was, she didn't realize her agent had led her onto one of the jets, and now they were landing on the Helicarrier. So she jumped when her agent poked her.

The agent cocked an eyebrow. "Time to go."

Obediently Jen followed her off the jet. The Helicarrier was even bigger when you were standing on it. An actual runway made up most of the floor, and to the right was what Jen assumed was the control building. Through the glass Jen could see a S.H.I.E.L.D agents bustling around, talking into headsets, and one was even playing Pac-Man on his computer.

The agent led her down a flight of stairs, into the Helicarrier.

"Where are we going?" Jen couldn't help but ask.

"To the interrogation room." The agent said, like it was obvious.

"Oh." Well, it was kind of obvious once you thought about it.

* * *

**A/N: Chapter Three is UP! **

**I'm not too good at writing action scenes, so please, let me know how I did! **

**MikaBee2434LOVE**** –Nobody likes reading cliffys, but I love writing them! Muahahahaaaa. . . . :D**

**Arrows the Wolf**** –I'm not sure if I understand. . .could you please clarify?**

**TheMagentaColor**** –Ah! Please don't die! Hopefully this chapter will help you survive a little longer.**

**Ryen Lokidottir**** –I'm glad you like it! :)**

**-SM**


	4. Chapter 4

_You would not believe your eyes_

_if ten million fireflies_

_lit up the world as I fell asleep_

Owl City was playing in the interrogation room. If you could call it an _interrogation_ room. It looked like it had been used as a bedroom once. There were brackets where the bunks would be fastened to the wall, a nightstand was stuck in the corner, and there was still tape residue from where a couple pictures of family would be hanging above the bed. Now a fold-up table was secured to the floor along with a metal chair. The chair was nifty, Jen thought. On the feet of the chair was a system of wheels which were secured to a track, a similar design to that of a roller-coaster, which allowed the chair to be pushed away or pulled forward to the table, all the while staying fastened to the floor. Jen wondered who had come up with such a design. She spent most of her waiting time sliding back and forth and listening to the _snick_ as the chair reached the ends of its track.

_They fill the ocean air_

_and leave teardrops everywhere_

_you'd think me rude but _

_I would just stand and stare_

Her hands were not handcuffed anymore, which was a relief, but also made her uneasy. The absence of the cold metal sent a message that was all too clear: _You're not going anywhere._

"Well, who do we have here?"

Jen jumped at the sound of a familiar voice. Natasha stood at the door. She wore the same black uniform as the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents, but she also had strange bracelets on her wrists. For some reason Jen thought she had seen Natasha in this get-up before, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Natasha smiled grimly. "Hello, Jen."

Jen gaped at the woman "You're a S.H.I.E.L.D agent too?"

"Why, yes. I suppose you could say that."

"What do you mean?"  
"It's not important." She sat in the chair opposite Jen, and folded her hands on the table. She looked very pretty in her uniform, Jen thought. A black cat suit with various guns strapped to a belt wasn't a look that anyone could pull off, but Natasha did it quite nicely.

Natasha flipped a couple loose strands of hair behind her ears and settled into a more comfortable position. "Perhaps you could tell me what happened a couple hours ago."

"Okay, um. . ." Jen didn't know where to start. It was kind of nerve racking, explaining everything you did today while possibly hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D agents watching your every move. "It was right after closing time. Madge had told me would lock up so I could go home early. I stopped at Starbucks for a Java Chip frappé when I realized I had forgotten to ask Madge something. . ." she recalled how she felt when the intruder had crashed through the window, what happened when Rick almost shot her, but she hesitated when she told of the agent that had tried to stop Rick.

"Agent Hill," Natasha clarified.

"Thanks. Um, Agent Hill was climbing around the trash in the shop—wait a minute!"

"What?"

"Where on earth did all those agents come from? How could they just appear in the antique store like they came from some magic portal or something? Are they like those aliens that attacked last year?" Reason halted her barrage of questions, but only for a moment. She gasped. "There's a secret room in Grandma's Closet!"

Natasha looked as if she was trying not to smile. "Well, there is a secret passageway-"

"Ha!"

"-but where it's located is classified."

"Humph."

Natasha winced and brought a finger to her ear. She must be wearing a hidden ear piece, Jen reasoned.

"Agent Hill isn't too thrilled I just revealed one of our entrances."

"Well all those people with guns were a big clue."

The agent shrugged, a "there is that" look on her face. "All right, we have a statement from Agent Hill for this point on, but I would like to know something. About Rick, do you know him?"  
Jen shrugged. "I thought so. . .well, we _were _best friends growing up. . .but now. . ." she sighed. "I don't really know anymore."

Natasha eyed her warily, a sudden flash of concern darting across her face. "I'll talk to Director Fury. Chances are, we might have to put you under watch for a few days."

"Why would you have do that?"

"Well, lots of factors really. One, you are a key witness for S.H.I.E.L.D. If you're willing, we would like to know a little about your friend, say what you know about his history, where he lives, what's his favorite restaurant. . .etc. Second, but most likely at this point, is the fact that he knows that there is some serious evidence against him and he could come back to dispose of said evidence."

Jen stared at her, barely comprehending what the agent was saying. "You mean. . .he'll kill me? Like Madge?"

"It's a strong possibility."

"But he didn't the first time, I _know_ he's a better shot than that. If he didn't kill be before, what makes you say he'll come back?"

"Look, Jen, Rick is obviously not working alone. He has other accomplices, and even if he, himself, won't kill you the others will." the agent paused as understanding dawned in the teenager's eyes. "We'll post a twenty-four hour guard around your apartment for a couple of days until we can get this sorted out," she continued. "By the end of the week you'll most likely have your normal life back."

Jen snorted. "Well, as normal as it can get with unemployment."

Natasha's eyes softened, and she leaned across the table to lay a hand on Jen's shoulder. "I'm very sorry about Madge. She seemed like a nice person."

Jen shrugged, not trusting herself to answer coherently, but she mumbled "Maybe I can go work at Starbucks. . ."

The agent chuckled and stood. "Come on, lets get you back home."

At that Jen frowned, confused. "Wait, aren't I, like, arrested?"

Natasha waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "A misunderstanding. Agent Hill overreacting, again, when all we really needed was your statement. I spoke with Director Fury, so you're good to go. "

"But I interfered with a S.H.I.E.L.D operation-"

"Jen." Natasha's stern reprimand stemmed her confused outburst. "Do you _want_ to be arrested?"

"Oh, no. Definitely not." Jen stuttered.

"Then let's go."

Jen boarded the jet once more, this time without the handcuffs and Agent Hill. Instead, Agent Garret was standing at her side, ready for his first shift in front of her apartment door. The jet lurched underneath her feet and she remembered why she hated flying. She hated it with a passion. For a fleeting moment Jen recalled a scene in Star Wars II, where Obi-Wan expressed his dislike for flying many times. Another patch of turbulence tossed the jet and she tightened her seat belt.

_Flying is for droids!_ She mentally cursed.

Ten minutes later the jet landed on the roof of her apartment building. Thankfully not that many people were around, but those who were stopped gaped as the black jet slowly touched down on the roof. After some quick instructions from Agent Garret she left him outside her door and collapsed on her couch.

Her two-room apartment was small, even for six hundred dollars a month. The view from her window was an abandoned Wilson factory. The wallpaper was peeling, the hardwood was scuffed and stained, and the ceiling leaked in one corner. But it was her own.

Jen stared at the fan wheeling lazily above her, it's soft breeze relaxing her and the blades humming a comforting lullaby. She let her eyes droop. It was almost ten at night. Way earlier than her usual bedtime, but she didn't care. Bundling up in her jacket, she sighed with exhaustion and drifted off to sleep.

_Briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinng! _The alarm clock was loud. Even from the living room Jen could hear it and the suddenness of it caused her to jerk awake. Groaning, she rolled off the couch and onto her feet. She couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to sleep in her clothes. Not that that meant she wasn't used to it, Jen usually spent more time sleeping in jeans and a t-shirt than pajamas, anyways.

In the bathroom she splashed her face with water and stared at her reflection in the mirror and groaned. She had forgotten to take her makeup off. Now her cheeks were smudged with eyeshadow and mascara. No doubt the couch was just as bad. Hurriedly she changed into a fresh set of clothes, washed her face and was applying a light coat of powder when her telephone rang.

"Hello, this is Jen Haskell."

"Hello Jen, this is Natasha."

Jen groaned for the third time that day as the memories from yesterday came rushing back.

"Are you okay?" Natasha sounded a little worried.

"I'm fine," Jen shook her head, trying to clear the horrific visions from her mind. "Just remembered I'm out of a job."

"Ah," Natasha sounded like this had happened to her. "Anyways, We're sending up another agent to relieve Agent Garret, so-"

A buzzing distracted Jen.

"Hey my intercom is buzzing, can you hold on for a sec?"

"Sure."

"kay, thanks."

Jen jogged over to her intercom. "Yes?"

"Agent Wilson here to relieve the agent on duty." a gravely voice sounded through the speaker.

"You mean Agent Garret?"  
"Yes, how's he holding up?"

"Probably very tired, I just woke up so I haven't checked on him yet."

"No problem."

Jen fumbled with the unlock button for a minute. "It's open."

"Thanks."

Jen picked up the phone again. "Sorry about that, but I just buzzed him up."

"You buzzed who up?"  
"Um, Agent Wilson. Your guys are fast."  
"Jen!" Natasha's voice took on a concerned note. "That can't be, our agent just left two minutes ago."

Outside the door Agent Garret was reading a sports magazine he had brought along, waiting for his relief.

The elevator dinged and an a S.H.I.E.L.D agent walked through the doors. Agent Garret nodded a welcome. "Hey." The agent nodded back, then without warning drew his gun and fired.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the shortness of past chapters! This is longer because I started writing it and I couldn't stop! Although I have to say the interrogation scene was one of the hardest things I had to write. It took me a couple thousand drafts until I was satisfied. . . **

**Arrows the Wolf****: Ah, yes. . . I, um, planned it that way! Yes, I did. I DID! Though seriously, I only found out it was reminiscent of Captain America when you pointed it out. . . . . . . . .*sheepish grin* The 'I always carry an umbrella' bit was on purpose, however.**

**MikaBee2434LOVE****: I'm not THAT evil, am I? It's not like I wrote a totally annoying cliff-hanger where some man in black goes flying through a window. Oh, wait. . . **

**TheMagentaColor**** & ****Ryen Lokidottir****(and everyone else :D): I have to say, I love it that you guys are loving my story. Thanks so much for reading!**

**A/N2: Okay, I just checked my story's stats for the first time and, EEEEEEEEE! So many people are following my story! *does happy dance* Thank you ALL so much! XD**

**MikaBee2434LOVE****: another cliffy, just for you! And I have decided, I AM that evil! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAch okecoughgaspweez. . .**

**-SM**


	5. Author's Note Duh duh DUUUUUUUUUHH!

Okay y'all, I've hit a bit of snag. Not the I-have-writers-block-or-something-so-I-won't-be-finishing-this-story-for-some-annoying-reason kind of snag, but a, I-am-not-allowed-to-watch-the-Iron-Man-movies-so-the-only-movie-I-have-seen-Tony-Stark-in-is-The-Avengers-so-please-help-me-out-with-his-character kind of snag.

Here's the deal. I have not seen the Iron Man movies, nor am I allowed to. SOOOOOO, I want you all to tell me if there is any character revelation in those movies so that I can correctly put it into my story. Does anything major happen that I should know about?

I know a little about Tony's background from extensive research (researching Captain America helps too, who knew?), so I know the basics. I know he's snarky and complicated, but WHY is he snarky and complicated? _WHY ON EARTH is it so hard to portray him the way I want to? _So please, in your review, could you tell me something about Tony Stark that is a major thing for his character? It would help me a lot in my writing, and ultimately give you something enjoyable to read. Thank you very much!

_P.S. Please know that I WILL NOT stop writing. Fair warning: because of my little snag, my new chapter will be unbelievably short and there will be a longer break between chapter 5 and chapter 6 but I will struggle to write as much as I can while trying to perfect Tony's character. _

-SM


	6. Chapter 5

"What I don't understand is how he could have found you so fast!" Natasha was pacing the interrogation room, a testament to how upset she was. "It took him twenty-four hours, Jen-_twenty-four!"_

It was four hours after the fake S.H.I.E.L.D agent had attacked Jen. After a brief panic attack she had escaped via the fire escape, was chased all the way to the subway station, and unceremoniously shoved into a fountain. Luckily she was surrounded by commuters at that time, so by the time she hauled herself out of the freezing water and called S.H.I.E.L.D the impostor was long gone. Now she was sitting in a familiar-looking interrogation room with a towel draped over her shoulders and Natasha pacing in front of her like a caged tiger.

There was a knock at the door and it opened to admit another agent. This agent was different, (he was a African-American for one) he wore a black trench coat along with his uniform. A black eye patch covered one eye, the glimpses of a scar peeking out behind the cloth. Also the way Natasha stopped her pacing and immediately stood at attention when he entered told Jen that he was in some position of authority. Her gaze darted between the newcomer and Natasha, wondering if she should stand too, or. . .

The man seemed to feel her unease, for he smiled reassuringly and gestured for Jen to keep her seat. He pulled up another chair and sat, tossing a folder onto the table.

"Hello, Jen," his voice was rich, but with the undertone of weariness, like he had so many things to do and too little time to do it in. Jen knew the feeling. "I'm Director Fury and I hear you've had a little. . .predicament with one of our targets today."

Jen shrugged. Predicament wasn't her choice word for it, but Director Fury was pretty close.

"I just want to know how he found me so quickly. I mean, there's a couple million people living in New York and he managed to find one person in twenty-four hours." she said.

Director Fury sighed. "Well, that's where we've hit something. You used to be in a foster family, yes?"

She nodded.

"Since you used to be in the foster care program your file was very easy to find. All he had to do was Google your name and everything popped up, from your birthday to your cell phone number. Your address was right below highlighted in bold. Irresponsible identity management if you ask me."

"Ouch."

"Exactly. So my plan of action is, we need to hide you, but not the Witness Protection Program—that doesn't have the security you need and we're going to need you to stay in New York—so you're going under the protection of Tony Stark."

Jen stared at him. "Wait a second, Tony Stark, as in Iron Man?" No. Wicked. Way.

Director Fury nodded. "You're going to be his niece, visiting from California. You're parents just died in a house fire and so you need to stay with Tony for a couple months until you can find a place of your own."

"But, there's all the press and the paparazzi! I thought I was supposed to be in hiding, not as visible as a ad in Times Square!"

"And that's why you're hiding in plain sight. These guys are good, but I think this would be so blatantly obvious that they wouldn't even think of looking for you here."

He slid the folder in front of the teenager. "We're trying to get you in tomorrow evening so until then, I would like it if you read a little about him. You're going to need as much info as you can to understand that man."

She snorted. Well, if she was from Cali' they'd better give her a tan. Her entire cover would be blown just by the shade of her skin.

Natasha spoke up. "Sir, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, have you even_ talked_ to Stark yet?"

Director Fury smiled. "No, but I'm sure he'd be overjoyed to learn he's become an uncle."

* * *

**A/N: Please read the Author's Note in the chapter selection. Thank You! **

**MikaBee2434LOVE****: I'm not sure if I can commit to that. You know, with school and all. . . But I will try my hardest NOT to write too many cliff-hangers. Deal? :)**

**Arrows the Wolf**** : I'm into writing creepy dudes. :)**

**Alerix Slynn****: Glad you like it!**

**-SM**


	7. Chapter 6

The airport was crowded. Cameras were being toted everywhere. Reporters stood about two inches away from each other, all trying to catch a glimpse of the long-lost relative of Tony Stark. They waited in and outside the terminal, muttering to partners, hastily combing hair, adjusting camera settings and all that stuff that reporters do.

One reporter stood away from the others, having the decent sense to not get caught up in the mayhem and save what little sanity he had left. He slowly paced the sidewalk as he waited, keeping an eye on the road leading to the parking lot. Therefore, he was the first one to spot the black limo that drove towards the airport.

"Hey! It's them!" he cried and ran forward to greet the billionaire. The rest of the throng heard his excited shout and surged forward as one, flashes popping and voices crying out for a comment as the billionaire stepped out of the limo.

Tony Stark ignored them and instead helped a graceful redhead out of the car. Pepper Stark wanly smiled at him, not quite used to the feeling that all the paparazzi were directed at _her_.

"Mrs. Stark! What was your reaction upon learning of your sister's death?"

It took her a moment to find her voice. "Well, I was devastated, of course. You can ask Tony," she gestured to her husband. "He can tell you I had locked myself in my—excuse me—_our_ bedroom for a couple of days."

Tony grinned. "Crying the whole time. Uh, not that I blame her of course." He quickly added the last part, shrinking just a little under Pepper's terrifying glare.

"What do you think about housing an almost complete stranger in your home?"

Tony opened his mouth to answer but Pepper beat him to it. "We will welcome Vanessa with open arms. We may have never known her before, but she is family."

Tony wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

_Delta Airlines flight 385 arriving in ten minutes at Gate Nine. _

"Well, that's our queue." Tony stated. He waved away reporters, though they didn't go very far, and led Pepper towards the waiting area.

The Boeing 777 touched down not-so gracefully, small clouds of dust swept away from underneath it's wheels.

Instantly reporters packed the waiting area, recorders and cameras ready. Before too long the jet pulled up to the boarding ramp and people started to file out. The crowd parted in the middle to make way for the passengers, anxiously waiting for one of their biggest stories to walk out of security.

Jen, now Vanessa, strode down the ramp. She had a flower-print-so-brightly-colored-it-was-ridiculous bag slung over her shoulder, blonde hair tied back into a french braid, a white tank-top and jean shorts so short it made her want to gag. At least S.H.I.E.L.D had given her the tan New Yorkers only dreamed about. Somehow they had even managed to alter her DNA signature. Not literally of course, but by swapping her original DNA record with someone who had been dead for over a century. It involved a lot of computers and hacking and math and stuff she didn't want to think about at the moment. All that combined with some speech lessons had completed her transformation from a shy New Yorker to a confident beach girl who was used to having microphones shoved into her face.

She hated it.

She passed various shops and stalls along the way to waiting area, where she knew the Starks would be waiting for her. How many reporters would be with them? With her luck, probably a hundred million or so.

She rounded the corner and almost had a heart attack. Waiting behind the glass doors were even more reporters and cameras than she had ever dreamed. There had to be a couple billion, at least.

Natasha's words came back into her head: _Whatever you do, don't let the paparazzi faze you. Just find one of the Starks and keep your eyes on them. Walk forward and ignore everything._

So she searched for Pepper Stark. Once she found the pretty redhead, she smiled and walked forward with a little more enthusiasm.

"There she is!" the reporters had spotted her. A little later than she expected, but who was she to complain? Oh, wait. She was Vanessa Miller. Right.

With some difficulty she ignored them and pushed her way through to her aunt and uncle.

Pepper beamed and pulled Vanessa into a hug. "Welcome to New York, Vanessa!

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Stark." she said, making sure she stressed her Californian accent a little.

"First rule of the house: don't call me Mrs. Stark, Auntie, or anything like that. Pepper is just fine."

Vanessa nodded. "Got it."

Tony stepped forward. "But you can call me Supreme Leader of All Things, or Lord Awesomeness too Awesome to Handle, or-"

"You can call him Tony." Pepper smiled.

Tony glanced at her with mock disgust. "I guess that could work."

Vanessa bit her lip to keep from grinning. She settled for a half-smile that hopefully didn't look like she was about to bust up laughing.

Meanwhile the reporters would not leave her alone. They kept shouting questions, demanding comments, and filming the entire conversation. It was starting to get a little annoying.

Vanessa guessed Tony have noticed something because he snapped his fingers. "Oi, Jeeves, go get Vanessa's stuff."

Only then did Vanessa notice the personal valet behind Mr. Stark. Well, he was one of the richest men in the world...

With that, Tony pushed his way through the crowd, Pepper following. Vanessa had a little trouble keeping up with all the microphones getting shoved in her face and all the flashes leaving colored spots across her vision. It was all she could do to keep the Starks in sight. _This __is__ a really bad idea,_ she thought.

It seemed like forever, but they finally reached the limo. The valet stuffed all of Vanessa's luggage in the trunk. She slid into the seat facing the Starks, next to the window and they pulled out.

The next half-hour went by in a blur. Tony ranted a little bit about Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D, then switched to describing Stark Tower and all the gadgets he put in it. Vanessa listened with half an ear. Part of her wanted to find out just what she had gotten into, the other part wanted to discover everything for herself. She didn't have to wait long though, because she could see the tower, well, towering in the distance.

Her stomach did a little happy dance. Ever since she was little she had longed to go inside the city's tallest skyscrapers, just to see what the world looked like from the top of one. Now, not only was she visiting one, she was going to live in the Stark Tower. With world-famous inventor and his wife. It kind of blew her mind. It was too bad S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't let her buy a camera.

* * *

**And what is this? Am I actually updating? Well, being bedridden with a cold helps. You can get so much writing done when you are sick. Who knew? Anyways, I've just finished re-editing the rest of the chapters. Nothing major. Just really teeny tiny things. A comma here, a three-letter word there, but it makes me feel better. ;)**

**YES. I JUST DID write about Tony and Pepper being married. Because that's how I roll. I REGRET NOTHING. :)  
**

**As always, let me know what you think!**

**-SM**


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